


Caught

by badthingfine_as_hell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Caught, Classroom Sex, F/M, Forbidden, Harry and Ron are pissed, Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badthingfine_as_hell/pseuds/badthingfine_as_hell
Summary: Harry and Ron stumble into something that neither of them are quite ready for.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 184





	Caught

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a bullshit something that I wrote

The hall was empty–everyone was at lunch, except well, probably Hermione. She was likely buried in the back of the library, drawing up their revision schedules months early. The important thing was that no one was _here_.

Harry and Ron were looking for an empty classroom to practice their Animagus forms. The Gryffindor common room and dorms were out of the question and the Room of Requirement kept spitting them back out when they tried to change. The Forbidden Forest had worked until Ron’s Labrador-esque persona attracted predators.

“Here?” Ron touched the door of the transfiguration room with a grin. Harry looked back down the hall, a bit nervously. “C’mon, this room is used to Animagi. We can set up a ward so we can tell when someone’s coming.”

Harry pressed his ear against the door and listened carefully for a moment. “Okay, but only for a half-hour here and there when we’re sure we can’t get caught.” Ron nodded his assent and pushed open the door.

Soft, high breaths spliced with a girlish keening made both boys ears turn pink. They had stumbled onto a couple, errr, coupling! Harry was seconds away from stammering his apologies and slaming the door shut when something about the girl’s hair made him freeze.

She was riding the figure under her with the utmost fervor, her hands resting on his hips as she arched her back, eyes closed in bliss and face pointed toward the ceiling as the sinful noises poured from her lips. He couldn’t see who was under her, on the floor, hidden by McGonagall’s desk, but whoever it was had his hands gripping her arse quite painfully. Harry’s gaze immediately fixated on the soft rose buds of her nipples. He’d never spent time imagining what Hermione’s nipples looked like, but he suddenly realized that he should have. The sight sent a rather powerful shocking feeling through his body and ending in a wave of pleasure at his groin.

“What in Merlin,” came Ron’s whisper beside him. Hermione’s head whipped to the side, and she screamed, scrambling off her partner.

Harry’s eyes widened comically when none other than Malfoy pushed himself to his elbows just enough so that they could see his head, with his white-blond hair mussed, cheeks red, and chest heaving in labored breaths. Their eyes met across the room. Malfoy’s face spelled shock for just a moment then melted into utter self-satisfaction.

Hermione, meanwhile, had spelled her robes on faster than you could say “Quidditch.” Harry was embarrassed to be sporting a halfie.

“WHAT THE FUCK HERMIONE?!” Ron bellowed as Malfoy calmly pulled his trousers up and buttoned his shirt. Hermione’s face drooped with guilt and she looked like she was going to walk over to them, then thought better of it and settled for nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot.

A dressed Malfoy stood behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at them both with that same smug grin. “Potty, Weasel.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Harry blurted out, then turned from the room, grabbing Ron by the arm.

He didn’t miss Hermione’s enraged shout about how _Draco_ never remembered to set wards and his archenemy’s reply about how _someone_ had leapt on him like a wildcat so he didn’t have the time. This was not, apparently, some sort of horrific fluke. But a repeating horrific fluke. He focused on making his way back to Gryffindor tower and not on the rising bile in his stomach and the sinking feeling that everything he knew about the way the universe worked had changed. The two boys were on their fourth bottle of Butterbeer each and seated in the best armchairs by the fire within the hour.

“Was she…like that…with you?” Harry asked with a grimace. He looked into the fire to avoid looking at Ron.

“No, no mate. I don’t think she was ever even on top. I mean, we did it like three times you know? And each time it was over…pretty quickly.” Ron’s cheeks heated up. Harry winced when he slammed an empty bottle on the ground.

“How could Malfoy even stand touching her after all he’s said for the past, I dunno know, _seven_ years? How could she stand touching him?!”

“All I know is that she looked pretty fit.” Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry who immediately covered his mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that I mean like I never imagined she could look like that,” he cupped his hands on his chest, miming breasts, “you know?”

Ron huffed and rolled his eyes. He knew what was under those robes. Not that she was ever more than a little awkward and shy when he got to see. Never bouncing on his cock and moaning like she was a fucking porno star.

Hermione herself climbed through the portrait hole, her big lower lip wobbling and tears already forming in her eyes.

_I want to bite that lip_ , both boys thought silently. “I’m so sorry,” she started, a sob catching in her throat. “You were never meant to see that.”

Harry stood up, eyes blazing. “You’ve been fucking Malfoy for how long? The same Malfoy who openly _wished for your death_ in second year?”

Ron stood beside him, and they both stalked toward her as she took little steps backward. “You really looked like you were enjoying it too, huh ‘Mione?” Ron taunted. “What exactly is going on between you two?”

Hermione looked like she was going to faint. Her face was white as a sheet and her lip was bitten red. The face of a girl who was caught and had no hope of wiggling her way out of it. She looked up at them, her eyes suddenly narrowing when her back hit the wall.

“It’s none of your business,” she hissed, much to their surprise. “Of course I would never want you to see that, or find out in that way but this is my life and the war is over and you can’t tell me what to do!” She charged forward, pushing them both out of the way.

Harry saw red and grabbed her arm. “Oh no you don’t, if you want to bed down with Slytherins then go see how accommodating the dungeons are.” He himself was shocked at what he said, but he couldn’t very well take it back. The ugly swelling of jealously in his chest hadn’t gone away ever since he realized who was under Hermione. She had humiliated both of them.

Ron nodded, backing him up.

“Fine!” Hermione shrieked, stomping toward the portrait hole. “Fine! Good-bye then!”

Harry and Ron met each other’s gaze when she disappeared. “She’ll realize that shagging a Slytherin isn’t worth this,” Ron muttered darkly, running a hand through his hair.

“I hope,” Harry murmured back almost silently.

Hermione was sitting with the snakes the next morning at breakfast. Every single Slytherin, even the first-years, couldn’t take their eyes off of her as she violently buttered her toast and refused to look up.

Pansy, Theo, and Blaise were sitting beside and around her, all sharing uncertain looks and moving slowly, as if she were a wild animal. Only Malfoy seemed at ease, regarding the girl with amusement and casting the Gryffindor table triumphant looks every so often.

Harry’s grip on his silverware was deathly.

“The audacity of that absolute _slag_ ,” Ron had hissed as soon as they walked in the Great Hall. Harry hadn’t even bothered to reprimand him. The term “slag,” as horrid and demeaning as it may be, was growing ever more appropriate.

They watched as Malfoy made an exaggerated show of escorting Hermione out of the Hall, throwing them both winks over the arm around her shoulder. It was a small consolation that the rest of the Slytherin table looked just as awed and vaguely disgusted with the whole ordeal. Harry found himself sharing similar looks of incredulity with Theodore Nott of all wizards.

“What are we going to do about this?” It was Dean Thomas who finally broke the heated silence.

“What do you mean?” Ginny shot back immediately, lip curling. “You can’t police Hermione’s sex life. You think she needs all the big bad male war heroes in her life to make her choices for her?”

“Yes!” Ron exclaimed, crumbs spewing at everyone in the surrounding vicinity. “When she makes choices like that, yes!”

Ginny stood up, hands on her hips. “No wonder she doesn’t want to fuck any of you.” She pointed at all of them, ending with a jab at Harry’s forehead. “You’re all a bunch of misogynistic fucks! At least the snakes are open about being manipulative; you all hide behind a ‘I’m such a good guy I know what’s best’ toxic shield!”

She stomped out of the Hall. Ron placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She’s just pissed that you two didn’t work out, mate. Don’t take it to heart.”

Harry rubbed his scar with trepidation. “Is it possible that we’re being knobs?” Malfoy’s smug grin from the transfiguration classroom floated into his head. “No,” he answered his own question. “It’s bloody _Malfoy_!”


End file.
